Just a few kilometres separate the tranquil spirituality of Nikko’s Tōshōgū shrine from one of the most surreal places in modern Japan. This is Western Village, a former theme park opened in 1973. It is inspired by American and Italian Western films and the legendary Westworld starring Yul Brynner, where crazed robots rebel against visitors.
Closed permanently in 2007, the park is now a sanctuary of the absurd. This time capsule attracts haikyo-sha, Japanese and foreign urban explorers in search of environments suspended between reality and fiction.
Arrival at the Western Village
After a busy night in a tent in the mountains of Tochigi, I meet Simone at Shin-Takatoku station. A quick breakfast, then off to our destination. We know that the main entrance is sealed, but a series of secondary access points along the river allows us to reach the interior without too much risk.
Following a side path, we arrive behind the park buildings. We find abandoned public toilets, closed with old wire: a perfect hiding place to lighten our backpacks before entering. We don’t have all day, as the train to Tokyo leaves at sunset.
We walk along the river until, after climbing over a low wall, we find ourselves in the heart of the Western village. The effect is unsettling: the wooden houses, faded signs and cowboy mannequins seem to be waiting for the signal to return to the stage.
Between besieged banks and haunted saloons
The first encounter is with the banker, barricaded behind his counter with two bullet holes in his chest. A little further on, there is a bartender forgotten in time, an automaton lying on a cart and half a sheriff’s torso peeking out of a window.
Each building has its own micro-history: saloons, barbershops, shops, the sheriff’s station, the general store with its goods covered in cobwebs. Guarding a small church is an enormous buffalo with an immobile, watchful snout.
Along Main Street — worthy of a John Ford film — we recognise faces modelled on John Wayne and Clint Eastwood among the posters, as if the legends of American cinema were sleeping in this artificial limbo.
The kitchens and the playground
In the dining area, we find a hint of everyday life: long tables with grills, rows of red stools, Native American decorations and stars and stripes flags. Next to them are two rusty mechanical toys for children (a bear and a dog), with gears exposed like wounds.
We then cross the Indian theatre, which has been closed for years. Every attempt to enter is in vain until curiosity drives us towards the Arizona House, a hotel-saloon with decadent opulence. Inside, a frozen scene: mannequins with bottles and guns, “Wanted” signs stuck to the walls, light filtering through the barricades.
A few metres away, an abandoned arcade still houses arcade cabinets: Crazy Taxi, Final Furlong 2, Basket Stadium W. From above, a giant Chopper soft toy (from One Piece) watches over the room with unintentional irony.
The Japanese Mount Rushmore
After crossing a small bridge, we approach the replica of Mount Rushmore. The building that hides it looks government-like, cold and grey. Around the corner, there they are: the four American presidents stand majestically against the sky. We take the customary photo, a symbolic self-portrait between two eras.
We don’t forget the building behind the monument’s façade that caught our attention. We enter through a small window at the back.
The bear family and other shadows
Inside, the silence is broken only by our footsteps. A family of teddy bears “live” out a disturbing scene: the father and cubs next to a piano, the mother in a rocking chair, all surrounded by cotton wool balls: as if even toys could bleed.
Upstairs, other bears watch over the stairs with missing eyes, lost gazes and mutilated bodies. Illuminated by the torch, their faces take on an almost human ferocity.
We continue past an empty mezzanine to an area with old horror-themed games: monster shooting galleries, an oversized buffalo, posters of Broly Super Saiyan 3 and, in a dark corner, a statue of Abraham Lincoln. Covered in pigeon droppings, it lies like a muddy totem pole.
The last ride
The exploration takes longer than expected. When we leave the park, the sun is high in the sky. Western Village remains there, motionless, halfway between nightmare and wonder: a ghost set where the dream of the West continues to play its part, even without spectators.
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